


Weird Shapes

by dirtbag



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Mutual Pining, Underage Drinking, kuroo spaghetti pockets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-02 17:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6575785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtbag/pseuds/dirtbag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto and Kuroo always find their way to each other when they end up at the same party, and then Bokuto’s mouth finds its way to Kuroo’s mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. it's makeout time

**Author's Note:**

> -thank you so much to my kind sweet wife [leah](http://archiveofourown.org/users/potatobread/pseuds/potatobread) for looking at this for me and encouraging me and also having the best kuroo thoughts ive heard in my life  
> -i made a small mix to go with this fic because i love to be extra and theres a song for every chapter...[heres track one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_4RirlSUN68) if youd like some mood music  
> -the rating will go up but not for a bit  
> -i cherish every fic in this tag and im so happy to finally be contributing to it!!!!!!! THIS SHIP IS GOOD

The first thing to understand about Bokuto is that he’s the kind of guy who always tries to kiss his friends at parties. Everyone calls him gay and embarrassing, but he prefers to think of himself as warmhearted and gregarious. 

The second thing to understand is that he really isn’t gay. Probably. It’s just that whenever he gets drunk, he starts to think about how cool his friends are, and how much he loves them, and how great it would feel to communicate that love in a masculine yet tender exchange of saliva. 

However, most other people don’t share that sentiment. Akaashi has neatly evaded Bokuto’s clutches more times than he can count, as have most of his former teammates. College, though, is like a whole new world of opportunity laid out before him. 

Bokuto drinks too much and goes to too many parties over the course of his first year, as Akaashi often reminds him in their weekly calls. He even hooks up with a girl at one point, but he doesn’t remember much about that besides a lot of fumbling, a minute or so of intense euphoria, and then a really awkward morning after. 

It’s not until the first few weeks of second year that Bokuto sees Kuroo at one of these parties, on the fringes of the crowd with a red cup in hand. When he sees Bokuto wave at him, he grins, and Bokuto goes over right away. He and Kuroo have hung out on campus a couple times, but Bokuto’s never seen him out like this, and he’d wondered if Kuroo became a shut-in since high school or something. 

Things after that are hazy, but by morning there’s video proof on Instagram that the encounter had culminated in at least fifteen seconds of Bokuto’s tongue in Kuroo’s mouth. In the video, Kuroo kisses him back right away, like he’s anticipated this exact sequence of events from the start.

A week later, Bokuto bumps into Kuroo in line for the bathroom. The next thing he knows, they both have on towel capes and Kuroo is giving him a hickey while people pound on the door from outside. Next Saturday, Bokuto finds Kuroo with a cat in someone’s backyard. He bounds up to pet it, and after the cat runs away they make out horizontally in the wet grass until Kuroo gets the spins. In two more weeks, Bokuto sees Kuroo pick up a potted plant that someone else knocked over, and they kiss so much that Bokuto’s mouth feels soft and bruised the next morning. 

Bokuto can’t be certain, but he thinks he may sense a pattern here. 

Most of his college friends will accept a kiss on the cheek without complaint, maybe even a peck on the lips if they’re especially wasted, but Kuroo is by far the most good-humored about it, and he’s also the only one who ever initiates. In fact, he seems so into it that Bokuto starts to wonder if Kuroo might be into _him_. 

That theory gets thrown out pretty quick, because in between all these incidents, when they work out together or study in the library or grab lunch, Kuroo never makes a move. Not even obliquely. Not even when Bokuto hits on him, just a little, to test the theory.

Bokuto concludes that Kuroo is a mystery, but he’s a mystery that Bokuto likes to kiss and hang out with, so he figures he’ll just let it be.

— — — 

They’re well into their second year now, and not much has changed besides Akaashi graduating high school and being here to tell Bokuto to drink less in person. At this point, it’s a well-known fact that Bokuto and Kuroo always find their way to each other when they end up at the same party, and then Bokuto’s mouth finds its way to Kuroo’s mouth. Not to get all poetic, but the whole thing makes Bokuto feel peaceful somehow. Like the world is simple and kind and it wants him to get to make out with his friends when he feels like it.

He’s currently pretty drunk at a Friday night party, and thoughts like these swim pleasantly through his head as he heads into the kitchen. To his delight, he finds Kuroo there, with a mini-quiche in his hand for some reason. 

“Kuroo,” says Bokuto, dragging out the last syllable a little longer than necessary. 

“Hey,” says Kuroo, and offers the quiche. “What’s up?” He sounds genuinely interested, which Bokuto finds touching. 

“I’m just, like,” says Bokuto around a mouthful of cheddar and broccoli. “I want —”

“Yeah,” says Kuroo sympathetically.

Before he can try to further explain his state of mind, Yukie wanders into the kitchen with Kaori in tow.

“Munchies,” Kaori says with a grimace, at the same time that Yukie says “Snacks, where,” and makes a grab for the half of a quiche in Bokuto’s hand. Kuroo somehow produces another one and hands it to her. 

Once the quiche gets devoured, Yukie sighs with contentment and leans into Kaori’s side. Bokuto doesn’t realize that he’s mirrored their body language until he feels Kuroo shift to accommodate him. 

“You two are looking cute tonight,” Kaori says, and they both dissolve into giggles. 

“We always do,” says Kuroo. He slings an arm around Bokuto’s shoulders and pulls him even closer. Bokuto catches a hint of some familiar smell, but he can’t quite place it. Spaghetti sauce, maybe. A sniff to the side of Kuroo’s face reveals nothing, but it makes him smile.

“Do I stink?” he asks.

“You always do,” says Yukie. Kaori almost chokes on her drink. 

“What do you think?” says Kuroo, and tries to stick his armpit in Bokuto’s face. 

“ _Dude_ ,” says Bokuto. There’s a brief scuffle, and it ends with Kuroo in a headlock. 

“Why are you beefy,” Kuroo complains, going limp. Bokuto is so moved by this compliment that he loosens his grip and lets Kuroo stand up again. 

“You love it,” he says.

Kuroo grins. “Yeah, pretty much.” 

In Bokuto’s opinion, that’s as good a reason as any to kiss him. He’s wanted to since he first saw Kuroo with the stupid quiche, anyway, so he leans up just a bit and gives Kuroo a sloppy kiss on the cheek. 

“Aw,” says Kuroo, but he’s cut off as Bokuto goes back for seconds. This time he presses his mouth right against Kuroo’s, hard enough to smash their noses together. 

“Please get a room,” says Kaori, even though one of Yukie’s hands is currently shoved into the back pocket of her jeans. Bokuto is pretty sure Yukie is also filming them with the phone in her free hand, but he decides to be the bigger man and not point out their hypocrisy. 

Instead, he crowds Kuroo up against the kitchen counter, so enthusiastic that he puts his hand in a fruit bowl by mistake. Oranges roll past their feet as Kuroo moves with him amiably, just like he always does. His hands come up to bracket Bokuto’s face as he tilts his head and pushes his tongue against Bokuto’s lips. The smell was definitely spaghetti sauce. That’s one of the things he likes about Kuroo, though. He’s a mixed bag of a dude. 

Bokuto could probably do this forever, but after a minute or so he senses an ominous presence behind them. He doesn’t have to turn around to realize it’s Akaashi, probably with a beer in hand and his shirt untucked, probably also sighing or folding his arms or some other kind of matronly thing. 

When Bokuto detaches himself from Kuroo and turns around, he sees that Kenma is there too. He looks intensely bored, but Bokuto doesn’t think he’s ever seen Kenma look a different way.

“Hey hey, Akaashi,” says Bokuto, grinning shamelessly. 

“Bokuto-san,” says Akaashi, and nods politely to Yukie and Kaori too. Yukie lowers her phone, looking a little guilty. 

“I’m going home,” says Kenma. He doesn’t seem to notice or care about the fact that Bokuto and Kuroo are basically entwined in the middle of a bunch of spilled fruit. “Are you coming?”

“I better,” says Kuroo. His eyes are still fixed on Bokuto. “Have a good night, dude. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Bokuto, who’d vainly hoped that Kuroo wouldn’t go even though the party is usually over once Akaashi and Kenma show up, feels a sudden spike of disappointment. 

“See you around,” he says. He must sound sullen despite his best efforts, because Kuroo gives him one more very sweet kiss on the cheek, waving off Yukie and Kaori’s catcalls as he goes. 

Bokuto and Akaashi head out not long after, and Bokuto thinks Akaashi seems even quieter than usual. He stays that way until they’re almost back to campus, stretched out across the back seats of an otherwise deserted bus. 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi finally says. “Did Kuroo-san tell you anything tonight?” His voice sounds hesitant. 

The bus rattles over a pothole. Bokuto squints at the ceiling and tries to remember.

“Yeah!” he says at last. “He said I was beefy. Why?”

“No reason,” Akaashi says. He’s silent for a moment, but then he says “I wonder why he’d lie like that,” and Bokuto yelps in betrayal, and the bus driver yells back at them to keep it down. By morning, he forgets the whole thing.

— — — 

Bokuto, in Bokuto’s opinion, is a man with a vast and diverse array of positive qualities. One of his personal favorites is the fact that he doesn’t get hungover too often. The next day is Saturday, and after some water and a couple jumping jacks he feels cheerful and energized as ever. He’s out the door for a run around campus while Akaashi is still a quietly snoring lump of blankets on the other side of the room.

As Bokuto runs, he keeps an eye out, because he sort of remembers making tentative plans with Kuroo to meet up on the green somewhere. He can’t remember the time or the place, so it feels like a stroke of luck when he sees Kuroo spread-eagled on the grass under a tree, with Kenma cross-legged next to him. 

They don’t notice him in the flow of other students as he jogs up, and so he catches a few seconds of their conversation.

“ --Doing this,” he hears Kenma say flatly. “It’s weird.”

Intrigued, Bokuto slows to a walk. 

“I know,” says Kuroo, and scrubs a hand over the half of his face not covered by sunglasses. He definitely doesn’t share Bokuto’s hangover immunity. 

“So when are you—” Kenma starts, only to fall silent when he catches sight of Bokuto in front of them.

“Hey!” Bokuto says, and flops down into the grass. “What weird shit is Kuroo doing? Besides, like, existing and being himself.”

Kenma doesn’t reply. Instead, he gives Kuroo a very complex look that Kuroo returns with an even more complex look. Things are weird and silent for a few seconds. Bokuto is just beginning to regret his question when Kuroo finally speaks.

“Uh,” he says. “Might change up my gym routine.”

“Dude, what?” says Bokuto, aghast. “But we worked so hard on it!”

He spends a few minutes trying to talk Kuroo down from this unconscionable decision before Kenma stands up. 

“I have class,” he says to Bokuto. Then he turns and whacks Kuroo softly on the back of the head with his notebook.

“Figure it out,” he says, and walks away. 

“How come Kenma is so heated about your gym routine?” Bokuto asks. 

“I’m not sure,” says Kuroo. He looks pensive. Bokuto figures he and Kenma must have some kind of weird best friend drama going on between them, incomprehensible to outsiders. 

“Last night was fucked up,” he says, just for a subject change, even though last night had actually been pretty standard. 

“God,” says Kuroo. He rolls over onto his stomach and then looks regretful about the fact that he’d just done that. Bokuto passes over his water bottle. It seems like Kuroo might need it. 

“Slow sips, dude,” he says. Akaashi always reminds him about slow sips, just like he always reminds him to drink in moderation. Maybe if Kuroo takes half of that advice it’ll cancel out his dire transgressions with the other half.

“I’m in for the month,” says Kuroo. The slow sips don’t seem to help much. His voice sounds like a rusty tin can, and his lips move the absolute minimum amount required for intelligibility. 

That’s probably a lie, but Bokuto feels that some solidarity is important in this moment, so he reaches out and pats Kuroo’s shoulder. Kuroo tries to dribble some more water into his mouth, and instead just waters the grass for a while. 

“Dude,” says Bokuto. He’d felt a bit sluggish when he woke up in the morning, but Kuroo looks like he might be about to take root in the soil. Extreme measures might be necessary, so Bokuto gets to his feet. “You need some food in you or something.”

Kuroo grunts and struggles to sit up, sunglasses knocked askew. He tries to frown them back into place, like that’ll help. Bokuto reaches out and slides the crooked leg back behind Kuroo’s ear. Then he feels weird about that, and then he feels weird about feeling weird about it since they’d been so handsy last night. Before he can get too deep into another layer of weird feelings, Kuroo grins at him.

“Sounds kinda good. I might puke everywhere, though.”

Bokuto exaggeratedly places a hand over his heart, the way Kuroo does when he’s feeling altruistic.

“I’m buyin’.”

“You got me,” says Kuroo, and takes the hand Bokuto offers to help him up. 

Bokuto slaps him on the back once they’re both upright, and they set off down the green at a respectable and friendly distance from each other. It would probably be weird of Bokuto to wish for Kuroo’s arm slung over his shoulders or pulling him in close by the waist, so he definitely doesn’t do that.


	2. el scorcho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -i feel like i poured all my life forces into this chapter... i can only pray that comes across somehow  
> -this may be corny but i want to thank everyone who left a comment on the last part!!! i truly didnt expect many people to be interested in this but you were all so kind and supportive and i loved hearing everyones thoughts on how things are going so far!!!!  
> -thank you again to my sweet princess [leah](http://archiveofourown.org/users/potatobread/pseuds/potatobread) for looking at this  
> -also shoutout to my friend lais for saying [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ws-Sn7EU6Nw) reminds her of bokuto in this fic... its true  
> -on that note [here's track 2 of the mix](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_XnVHDA0fI)  
> -ALSO [heres the poster in kuroo's room](http://www.meta-synthesis.com/webbook/35_pt/meat_pt.png) and [here is the video referenced](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFuBxzGSNYY)

They end up in the dining hall with a large order of cheese fries laid out between them, courtesy of Bokuto’s wallet. While Bokuto dives straight in, Kuroo picks up one single cheeseless fry from the edge of the plate and then puts it back down again. 

“Hey,” says Bokuto, who finds this unacceptable. He knows for a fact that Kuroo loves cheese of all kinds, so it stands to reason he’d never pass up these fries, hungover or not. “You seem, like, actually sad.”

Kuroo looks up, startled. He’s silent for a while, but Bokuto just grabs some more fries and sits back. His first class of the day starts pretty soon, but as a cool guy and responsible friend he’s prepared to stay here as long as it takes. 

“There’s a lot going on, I guess,” Kuroo says, and rakes a hand fretfully through his hair. “O-chem is kicking my ass. And I forgot I have lab today.” 

To Bokuto, majoring in chemistry sounds like a hellish life of toil, but he’s never seen Kuroo get all worked up about his classes before. It’s sort of endearing. Probably because he doesn’t look like the type.

“That’s rough, dude,” he says, and reaches across the table to grip Kuroo’s elbow. “But you’re a chem god. I know you can do it.” He gazes directly into Kuroo’s eyes to communicate the proper levels of intensity. “And if you ever get stressed and need a back rub or anything, I got you, no questions asked.”

Kuroo opens his mouth, and then closes it again, and then presses it into a thin line. His eyes dart to the side, and his face looks kind of pink. At first Bokuto thinks he might have been too overzealous, but that can’t be it. A friendly pep talk is almost always the way to go. He doesn’t usually offer a back rub too, but it had felt right in the moment. Bokuto tries not to question these things. 

“Thanks, man,” says Kuroo. His voice sounds tense. He must really be worried about his grades, poor dude. 

“No problem,” Bokuto says, and delivers one last supportive elbow squeeze. “Hey, I’m late already, but finish those, okay?”

“Okay,” says Kuroo. He still sounds weird, but he waves as Bokuto heads for the door. “See you.” 

Usually when Bokuto and Kuroo hang out sober, they just argue about stuff like who has the most gains or whether or not it’s cool to keep a dream journal. When they hang out drunk, they kiss a lot more than they talk. Today had been different, though. Bokuto feels like they’d had a moment over those cheese fries, and it puts him in good spirits as he heads to class.

Apparently Kuroo disagrees, because after their conversation he proceeds to drop off the face of the earth.

— — —

Bokuto doesn’t think much of it for a while. The two of them have never stayed in constant contact; Bokuto has Kuroo’s number, but the only message in their text thread is a picture of Kenma in mid-sneeze that Kuroo sent him three months ago.

The rest of the school week passes with no sign of him, and Bokuto also doesn’t run into him at the party he goes to that weekend. At first he’s disappointed, but then he imagines Kuroo diligently mixing potions or scribbling equations on a chalkboard or whatever it is chem students do, and a wave of fondness sweeps through him. He’s pretty sure it’s only partially due to all the Fireball he’s ingested.

Another week goes by, in which Bokuto still doesn’t even see Kuroo around campus. Maybe he actually is in for the month, or maybe he has a project due, or maybe he’s in the middle of an extra-long nap. All three options seem more or less plausible. 

When Bokuto goes out that weekend, he asks a couple people if they’ve seen Kuroo around. No one has, and Yukie and Kaori make fun of him about it for ten full minutes. 

By week three, Bokuto is pretty worried, but he doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s worried. He and Akaashi go out together on Saturday, and Bokuto peers around corners and lurks near food trays for most of the night.

“I don’t think Kuroo-san is here,” Akaashi says, once Bokuto shines his phone flashlight into the face of a messy-haired first year and scares them so badly that they drop their cup.

“Who?” Bokuto asks, adopting an air of startled innocence. 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, and Bokuto crumbles instantly. Akaashi is so perceptive.

“I just miss him,” he says, and then feels like he’s said too much, even though Akaashi already knows how sentimental he can get. “Where’d he go? Do you think something happened? Like an experiment gone wrong or something?”

“Something like that, maybe,” says Akaashi. 

“Jesus,” says Bokuto, who can’t believe that Akaashi is so unbothered by the thought of Kuroo dying in a chemical explosion. “Should we call Kenma? No, the cops, right?”

“That’s not what I mean,” says Akaashi. He sounds frustrated. “Bokuto-san, what do you think about Kuroo-san?”

“Weird,” says Bokuto after some deliberation. The question seems big, somehow. “But cool. And fun to be around. People think he’s bullshitting most of the time but actually he’s nice. Uh, soft lips. What do you think?”

Akaashi sighs. “I think you should tell him that.”

“But he already knows all that stuff,” says Bokuto. “It’s obvious.”

“You would think,” says Akaashi. Before Bokuto can ask what that means, Yukie comes by and recruits him for some kind of drinking game. 

Secretly, he’s kind of grateful. Akaashi’s cryptic moods are usually the precursor to a serious talk, and serious talks with Akaashi can be brutal. Last year’s tank top intervention is still tough to think about.

On the bus ride home, it’s like nothing happened, but this time Bokuto doesn’t quite forget.

— — —

Another school week drags on, and by Friday evening Bokuto doesn’t even bother to make any plans. Midterms are around the corner, and he has to at least pretend to care about that for the sake of his professors and his parents.

Fifteen minutes into an Akaashi-mandated hour of silent study time, Bokuto’s phone buzzes next to him on his desk. Akaashi is still a shining beacon of perfect concentration on the other side of the room, so Bokuto seizes the opportunity to abandon his haphazard comm notes. There’s a new message from Kuroo on his lock screen. 

_hey_ , it says. Bokuto ponders the mystery of this text for a second, and then the next one comes. _pregame? ↀᴥↀ_

“Kuroo’s alive!” Bokuto says out loud. The silence aspect of silent study time is strictly enforced on most days, but he can’t help it. 

“Is he?” says Akaashi, and puts down his pen. He’d never admit it, but Bokuto thinks he must be grateful for the distraction too.

“Yeah!” says Bokuto, as he types _U know it !!!!!!!!_ “He asked me to pregame. Wanna come?”

“Absolutely not,” says Akaashi, but he shoots Bokuto a small smile as Bokuto stuffs a bottle from their closet stash into his backpack. “Have fun, Bokuto-san.”

“I will!” Bokuto yells back, already halfway out the door. 

Kuroo and Kenma’s dorm isn’t far away, and Bokuto hums loudly as he walks. This is his first time going to see them, and the excitement of that thought cancels out the vague notion that his midterm grades are about to suffer.

Their room is right on the first floor, and Bokuto takes few seconds to reign himself in as he knocks. He hears a thump and some shuffling, and then the door opens and Kuroo is there.

“Hi,” Kuroo says. For some reason, Bokuto feels warmth and happiness radiate through his entire being at the sight of him. He decides not to mention this. 

“Hey!” he says as he flings himself over the threshold and into the middle of the room. “Where’ve you been?” 

He takes the beer Kuroo offers him and looks around. This room is a little bigger than his and Akaashi’s. Kuroo’s side is tidy, with textbooks stacked up by his bed and a poster on the wall titled _The Periodic Table of Meat_. Kenma’s side is messier, mostly because of the snake nest of tangled chargers on the floor.

“Just got swamped with homework stuff,” says Kuroo. He takes a gulp of beer. “I’m all caught up now.” 

Bokuto opens his mouth to start in on a speech about how much he’d missed him, the same way he does whenever his old teammates call, or Akaashi comes back from the grocery store, but he can’t get the words to sound right in his head. 

“Where’s Kenma?” he asks instead. “I brought reinforcements.” 

His backpack thumps onto Kuroo’s bed as he pulls out the bottle. Kuroo finishes the rest of his beer in one long swig and sits down. 

“Kenma takes night classes so he can sleep all day,” he says. “I texted some other people but everyone’s studying.” 

“I guess we’re on our own,” says Bokuto, and finds that he’s not disappointed at all by this prospect. “Akaashi pretty much said he’d rather die than come over here. Sometimes he acts like you stole his wallet.” 

He expects Kuroo to laugh, but instead he gets kind of a weird look on his face. “Wait, did you?”

“Are you kidding?” Kuroo asks. The look is gone, whatever it was. “Akaashi could kill me in an instant.” Bokuto squints at him for a few seconds, but ultimately determines that he’s sincere. 

“Just making sure,” he says. “Hey, let’s start this.” 

It’s awful tequila, and Bokuto doesn’t see anything around to mix it with, but he’s more than used to that scenario at this point in his college career. He flops down onto Kuroo’s bed next to him and powers through the first swallow. Kuroo accepts the bottle when he hands it over and grimaces as he drinks.

“Where did you even find that?” he asks, and hands it back.

“Listen,” says Bokuto, brandishing the bottle. “It was cheap.” 

Kuroo laughs his fucked up laugh, which makes Bokuto laugh and also cough, because this tequila is truly bad and will probably burn a hole through his esophagus before the night is done.

“Wow, be careful,” says Kuroo. He scoots closer so that he can whack Bokuto on the back, and stays that way even after the crisis is averted. 

Bokuto isn’t exactly sure how it happens, but as the bottle gets emptier, the two of them get more and more tangled up in each other. At the halfway mark, they’re crammed together in a corner of the bed, Bokuto’s arm wrapped around Kuroo’s neck as Bokuto shows him a video on his phone of some guy trying to evacuate an owl from his kitchen. 

By the time the bottle is three-quarters gone, Kuroo’s stolen Bokuto’s phone to laugh at all his pre-tank top intervention bathroom selfies and tweet long strings of gibberish from his account. Bokuto wrestles him backwards onto the bed and grabs his phone out of his pocket, intent on retaliation, but he gets distracted when he finds the folders in Kuroo’s camera roll dedicated to various neighborhood cats and pictures of food that people dropped on the ground. For a while they just lay there as Kuroo explains which cats hang out where and his criteria for judging the quality of sauce splatter. Bokuto laughs so hard he almost cries. 

“Do you wanna go somewhere?” Kuroo asks eventually. The bottle is empty, and Bokuto’s head is in his lap. It’s long past the time either of them would have stopped pregaming on any other night, but that thought seems very distant. 

“No,” says Bokuto, before his brain catches up to his mouth. Still, it’s the truth; he’d rather stay here all night than go to the wildest party in the universe. He doesn’t know if that’s weird to admit or not. 

“Me either,” says Kuroo, and flicks one of the stiffly gelled points of Bokuto’s hair. “This is fun.”

“You’re fun,” says Bokuto. “How come we don’t hang out all the time?” 

“We should,” says Kuroo. His face looks like it would be warm if Bokuto touched it. “You’re a sweet guy, you know.” 

“Dude, you— ,” Bokuto starts and then stops again, frustrated. He wants to tell Kuroo that he’s weird and cool and has soft lips, but he still can’t get the words right. 

“You’re really hot,” is what comes out instead. Bokuto can’t even be mad, because Kuroo is hot, and Bokuto thinks he’s hot, and he does like to make out when he’s drunk but he likes it the most when he’s making out with Kuroo.

Kuroo blinks a few times, like the words surprise him, but then he grins. From this angle, it looks even sleazier than usual. Bokuto hauls himself upright, waits for the room to stop spinning, and angles his body in the bed so that he and Kuroo can face each other. 

Once he makes it that far, he hesitates, so Kuroo puts a hand on the back of Bokuto’s neck and tips close enough for their foreheads to touch. He exhales through his nose and looks like he’s about to speak, maybe, but Bokuto doesn’t want to talk anymore or drink anymore or do anything except what they’re about to do, so he shuts his eyes and goes for it. 

It’s not a new sensation, just the same old slide of Kuroo’s bottom lip through his teeth and Kuroo’s tongue against his, but Bokuto still feels like he’d spiral up into the air and bump against the ceiling if Kuroo’s hand wasn’t there to weigh him down. Maybe it’s because this is more intimate than usual, because they’re alone and it won’t end up on Instagram unless Kenma has some hidden cameras around, but he almost feels delirious. 

“What the hell,” he mumbles into Kuroo’s mouth. 

“Hmm,” says Kuroo, but he manages to sound like he knows just what Bokuto means. He holds Bokuto’s face gently with the hand that’s not on his neck. Bokuto thinks a little bit about how that reminds him of a romantic movie and a lot about how good it feels.

His own hand clenches in the fabric of Kuroo’s pants as they separate and come together, deeper and messier every time. Everything feels like slow motion but also like it all might burst into flames at any moment. Bokuto is basically just sucking on Kuroo’s tongue at this point. 

After a while, Kuroo readjusts himself, and for a second Bokuto thinks he’s about to pull away. Instead, his hand moves further up the back of Bokuto’s neck to thread through his hair, and he tips Bokuto’s head to the side so he can press his open mouth against the side of Bokuto’s neck. Even this is something they’ve done before, but Bokuto still gasps out loud. 

Right at the moment when Bokuto feels Kuroo’s tongue on his skin and knows with complete certainty that he’s about to explode into thousands of pieces, the door swings open and Kenma steps inside with his textbooks and backpack in tow. Bokuto thinks he should freeze up or yell or something, but all he can conjure up is a dim awareness that he’d be embarrassed by this if he was sober. 

Kenma pauses for a second to take in the scene, and then he kicks the door shut behind him and drops his stuff on his bed.

“Can you guys not,” he says, pulling out his phone and unlocking it as he talks.

It’s kind of interesting, Bokuto thinks. Akaashi would probably call campus police if he walked in on something like this. 

“Hey, Kenma,” says Kuroo. He sounds a little winded, at least. “Want tequila?”

“That bottle is empty,” Kenma points out as he types rapidly. 

“Ah,” says Kuroo. 

“Beer?” Bokuto suggests. They hadn’t finished Kuroo’s six-pack before they’d moved on to the tequila. 

“No thanks,” says Kenma, but Kuroo reaches across Bokuto’s chest for one of the three beers left and holds it out to Kenma with a wheedling expression.

Bokuto hangs out with them for another hour or so, and it’s surprisingly not weird. Kuroo leans against Bokuto’s side the whole time, with an arm around his shoulders more often than not, and Kenma never says a word about it. 

In the end, they convince him to have three quarters of one beer, and then ten minutes later he falls asleep. 

“I should go,” Bokuto attempts to whisper, even though he’s not the greatest at volume control. Reluctantly, he disentangles himself from Kuroo and grabs the bottle to stuff into his backpack. 

“Gimme that, I’ll recycle it,” says Kuroo. Bokuto glances over at Kenma to make sure he’s still asleep and kisses Kuroo again as he hands it off. He’s still not sober enough to feel too awkward about anything, and he figures he should take full advantage of that. 

“Have a good one,” says Bokuto at the door. He tries to psychically infuse that generic statement with what he actually means, which is _please don’t disappear for three weeks again_. 

“You too,” says Kuroo, which Bokuto hopes is code for _i totally won’t_ , and gives him one more quick kiss on the cheek before he shuts the door. 

Akaashi is still awake when Bokuto gets back to their room, face lit up by his laptop’s bluish glow. 

“Kenma said he walked in on you and Kuroo.”

“News travels fast, I see,” says Bokuto. He tries to sound like he’s above such slander, but he’s pretty sure he mostly just sounds drunk. 

“The word he used was ‘passionate’,” Akaashi continues.

“It wasn’t like that!” Bokuto protests. “It was just, like, usual stuff.”

“Right,” says Akaashi, in a way that suggests he knows as well as Bokuto what a lie that is.

Bokuto doesn’t want to deal with that right now, or maybe ever, so he just stumbles his way into his own bed and pretends to sleep until he falls asleep for real.


	3. games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -OKAY SO....... im sorry for starting things off with a plug but!!! if you like bokuto/kuroo and you like making pretty much any kind of fanwork then please consider [joining team bokuroo](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/750.html) for [saso 2016](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/11870.html)!!!!!! WE HAVE THREE SPOTS LEFT AND IM TEAM CAPTAIN SO I CAN GUARANTEE WE'LL TREAT YOU RIGHT  
> -thank you to my precious darling [leah](http://archiveofourown.org/users/potatobread) for looking at this for me and being my favorite bokuto stan  
> -[here's track 3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbPEKxShphU)!! ITS PROBABLY THE ONE I HAVE ON REPEAT THE MOST WHILE WRITING  
> -warn: this chapter includes some drunk heavy petting

That night in Bokuto’s dream, he and Kuroo save an alien planet from certain destruction. As the enemy starship explodes on the horizon, Kuroo opens his mouth to speak. Instead, a bunch of cheese fries fall out. Bokuto’s dream self reaches out to take one, but he wakes up before he can eat it.

Bokuto sits up, feeling equal parts hungry and perturbed. Across the room, Akaashi’s bed is empty. He probably got up early to spend extra time at the library. Bokuto considers stealing him away from his textbooks so they can get breakfast, but Akaashi is formidable about midterms, and Bokuto’s been tricked into too many study sessions this semester already. With a shudder of distaste, he rolls out of bed and heads for the bathroom. 

A splash of cold water to the face puts the dream out of his mind, but it also reminds him of Kuroo’s neat room and his cat pictures and his hand on Bokuto’s neck last night, before Kenma walked in on them. All the embarrassment he hadn’t felt at the time comes in a rush, and Bokuto gargles some water in despair. The first year at the next sink looks over, alarmed, but Bokuto ignores him. 

He’s not even sure why he’s so embarrassed. Kenma sees him and Kuroo make out all the time, and all he ever does is tell them to fuck off. Last night felt different, though. Bokuto still feels different, and he’s not quite sure what to do about it.

As he spits toothpaste into the sink, Bokuto decides that the most logical course of action is to ignore all of this until it gets less confusing. He can get food with Yukie, or brave the perils of a library visit to Akaashi, or maybe just sleep some more, and then maybe the next time he thinks about Kuroo’s tongue in his mouth it’ll be in a completely wholesome and friendly way. 

Reassured by this thought, Bokuto finishes up in the bathroom and heads outside, shambling around the corner of the hallway that leads back to his dorm room. His plans are immediately thwarted by the sight of Kuroo slouched against the wall by the door, eyes most of the way closed and hair even wilder than usual. 

Bokuto wants to turn right back around and go somewhere else until he can figure out something to say that won’t tip Kuroo off to all his weird emotions, but he resists the urge and walks the rest of the way down the hall.

“Kuroo!” he says. “You look like you’re dead.” 

“Oh, hi,” says Kuroo. He offers up a queasy smile. “I just knocked. Thought I’d see how you were.”

“Better than you, apparently,” says Bokuto, and dodges Kuroo’s half-hearted blow to the shoulder with no trouble. “Hey, how’d you find our room?”

“Uh, you know,” says Kuroo, suddenly becoming interested in a stain on the carpet. “Asked around.” 

“Dude,” says Bokuto. The word comes out a little more tenderly than he’d meant it to. 

Kuroo shoves his hands in his pockets and grins. “Yeah, you’re welcome.” 

“Wanna come in?” Bokuto asks. “I have water and Akaashi probably has some medicine. You look like you need it.” 

Kuroo nods, and they both head inside.

Bokuto watches Kuroo scope the place out, suddenly embarrassed by the pizza sauce stain on his bedsheet and the drifts of dirty clothes all over his floor and the large black and white poster on his wall of two girls kissing. Yukie bought it for him first year as a joke, but now Bokuto kind of feels like they watch over him. 

“I like your room,” says Kuroo, and sits down onto Bokuto’s bed without mentioning the stain at all. “Cool poster.” 

“Thanks,” says Bokuto, relieved. He kicks some dirty socks under the bed and passes Kuroo the water bottle from his nightstand. Akaashi’s toiletries sit out on the other, much neater side of the room. Bokuto tries not to disturb anything as he rifles through them.

“Here you go,” he says, and drops down on the bed with a box of Nauzene that Kuroo tears right into. 

It occurs to Bokuto that Kuroo looks kind of cute when he’s wretchedly chewing up anti-nausea tablets. Then he banishes the thought from his brain into the furthest pits of hell. That’s a drunk Bokuto thought, and it feels risky to let those bleed over when his heart is already behaving strangely. Oblivious to his turmoil, Kuroo gives Bokuto a weak smile.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he says, once he finishes the water. “You saved my life.”

“Anytime,” says Bokuto. “I owe you for last night.”

He immediately wants to stuff the words back into his mouth, because he’s not sure how Kuroo will take them. He’s not even sure how he’d meant them. Why is this conversation so stressful? 

“We’re even,” Kuroo says. His tone betrays nothing, but the tips of his ears look pink. “As long as we hang out again sometime.” 

“Let’s hang out now,” Bokuto says recklessly. “We can go to the gym or something.” 

“Dude, you know I love when we hit the gym,” says Kuroo. “But I just puked like twenty minutes ago.” 

“Aw, c’mon,” says Bokuto, and jumps up off the bed. The more he thinks about it, the more the idea seems perfect. This way they can both blow off some steam in a wholesome and friendly manner. “How about a run? The pills will kick in soon!” 

Kuroo flops backwards on Bokuto’s bed, grabbing two fistfuls of blanket and pulling them around himself until he’s swaddled like a hungover baby. “Fuck off,” he says, voice muffled.

“Good enthusiasm,” says Bokuto, and wrestles the blankets away.

— — —

After a few more minutes of pestering, Kuroo agrees to go back to his room and change. Bokuto stretches while he waits outside the building. He half-expects Kuroo to just never come back out again, but he reappears soon enough. He’s wearing sneakers and his eyes are a little more than halfway open now, which Bokuto counts as progress.

“Ready?” Bokuto asks. 

Kuroo grunts, and they set off at a reasonable pace. Bokuto pulls slightly ahead, but he glances backward often to make sure Kuroo doesn’t trip or fall or turn to dust in the sunlight. So far, so good.

They make it through the first mile without saying much. Bokuto focuses on pacing himself, and his mind empties of everything but the sound of their sneakers on pavement. A half mile or so later, Kuroo’s footsteps start to lag, so Bokuto blinks sweat out of his eyes and looks over his shoulder. 

“Hey, wanna race?” 

“Are you a sadist?” Kuroo huffs out in between breaths. Undeterred, Bokuto turns around and jogs backward so he can look at Kuroo straight on. 

“We’re almost at the end,” he says. “But if you’re still feeling too delicate, I understand.” 

Kuroo scoffs and puts on a burst of speed before Bokuto can resume his normal pace.

“Wrecked,” he wheezes on his way past. 

“Oi!” Bokuto yells, stumbling as he tries to turn around and run faster at the same time. 

Kuroo is hardly at the top of his game, but Bokuto can’t help getting fired up anyway. This reminds him of high school, and training camp, and how accomplished he’d felt when one of his spikes broke through Kuroo’s block. 

It’s a good feeling, so he laughs. When he regains his footing and breezes ahead of Kuroo with minimal effort, he laughs even harder. 

“You fucker,” says Kuroo, once they reach the end of the path and collapse into the grass alongside it. Bokuto shoves at him and he sprawls right backward, face upturned to the sun. His chest rises and falls with each quick breath he takes, and he’s flushed with exertion all the way down his neck. Bokuto tries to think wholesome, friendly thoughts. 

“Feeling better?” he asks loudly, and mops at the sweat on his face with the hem of his shirt just for something else to do. 

Kuroo opens his eyes just a crack and then darts them away. 

“I was until you kicked my ass,” he says. 

“Maybe we really should rethink your gym routine,” says Bokuto. Kuroo groans and throws a forearm across his eyes. 

“I need to sleep for a thousand years.”

“Well, when you’re done with that,” says Bokuto, “we can hang out again.”

Kuroo’s eyes are still hidden, but Bokuto can see that he’s smiling.

“Sounds good,” he says. “Ready to carry me back?”

“Not yet,” says Bokuto, and lowers himself down to lie next to Kuroo. The grass is a little itchy, but the sun feels nice.

Kuroo folds his arms behind his head, and the look in his eyes makes Bokuto feel like he did the right thing even though he has no idea what he’s doing at all.

— — —

Midterms take up all of Bokuto’s time next week. He’s severely underprepared, but Akaashi guides him through with the patience of a saint, and Bokuto is fairly confident by the end that he didn’t fail anything.

Bokuto doesn’t see Kuroo around again after their run. He’s probably just busy alchemizing forbidden substances for his own midterms, but in his absence Bokuto’s mind starts to do a weird thing where it replays every single time he and Kuroo have ever kissed whenever he gets a moment to himself. 

There are a lot of them to go through, and on top of that are are the times when they didn’t kiss at all and just shotgunned beer together or got drafted for convenience store snack runs or almost shaved each other’s heads. They’re all good memories, but they still weigh on Bokuto’s mind. 

Several parties are scheduled for the weekend after midterms end, but when Bokuto hears that one of them is hosted by some guy who used to go to Nekoma, he doesn’t think twice about where he’ll end up. 

Akaashi likes to take it easy after big tests, but this time he decides to come along. Bokuto suspects that it’s to make sure he doesn’t make bad decisions, which is nice of him but seems like a lost cause at this point. He makes sure to get most of the way drunk before they so much as leave their room, and by the time the two of them arrive at Taketora’s shared townhouse, the party is well underway. 

Someone he recognizes from his Women’s Studies lecture hugs him and pushes a cup into his hand the second they get inside. Bokuto downs the cup like a man on a mission, which he is. Still, he feels a little stupid, because he hadn’t even texted to ask if Kuroo would be here like a normal person would.

As he rips through his third cup of unspecified party mixture, Akaashi gives him a weird look. 

“Bokuto-san,” he says. “I should tell you—” 

Bokuto imagines that Akaashi is about to say some stuff like ‘stop drinking so much’ or ‘deal with your emotions’ or ‘Google the Kinsey scale,’ so he just throws his arm around Akaashi’s neck and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“I love you, Akaashi,” he says, and pulls back to scan the crowd. “But I gotta do this.”

It sounds grandiose, and Akaashi is too busy wiping his face to question it, but Bokuto still isn’t exactly sure of his own plan. All he wants to do is find Kuroo, but a lot of people showed up and this house has some serious mood lighting, which makes it a relative mystery who’s here and who isn’t. 

“Well,” says Akaashi. “I tried.” He shrugs out of Bokuto’s grip and heads toward the kitchen, probably to find beer. “I’ll be around if you need help home. Don’t kiss me again,” he adds over his shoulder, and Bokuto salutes him. 

He takes his fourth drink a little slower, but not by much. One of Taketora’s roommates draws him into a conversation about volleyball, and Bokuto almost gets distracted enough to forget about the way his heart pounds whenever someone tall and messy-haired wanders into his periphery. 

At least, that’s what he thinks until someone switches on a lava lamp and he catches sight of real, actual Kuroo across the room, partially illuminated by its reddish light. He’s jammed onto a saggy couch with a few other people, Kenma among them. As Bokuto watches, he peers interestedly into the depths of a red cup and then tries to balance it on Kenma’s knee.

Bokuto only realizes that he’s left the roommate in the middle of a sentence once he’s halfway to Kuroo, and by then Kuroo’s already seen him. 

“Dude, what’s up? How are you?” Kuroo asks, as polite as he is wasted. Bokuto has a weird, desperate lump in his throat. 

“Been better,” he says once Kuroo gets up from the couch to talk to him. His voice sounds hoarse even to his own ears. Kuroo frowns, but before he can ask any questions, Bokuto hauls him forward by a fistful of his t-shirt and kisses him with absolutely no finesse.

“ _Again_?” someone nearby whispers. Then Kuroo starts to kiss him back with a sweet and messy kind of ardence that makes Bokuto’s drunk heart sing, and he forgets about everyone else. 

Kuroo holds onto Bokuto’s face with one hand and the back of his shirt with the other. They’re kind of swaying in place, mostly because neither of them can balance very well. Bokuto gets even worse at it when Kuroo’s tongue pushes against his teeth, thumb rubbing along his jaw at the same time. 

“Okay, really,” says whoever it is. Bokuto knows from experience that they’ll probably start getting empty cups thrown at them soon, and so with great reluctance he detaches himself from Kuroo’s face.

Thankfully, Kuroo seems to have a plan. He grabs Bokuto’s hand and leads him out of the living room, down some stairs and into a small, dark bedroom.

“Tanaka just moved out,” says Kuroo, “But just because we’re here, I’m not, like— it’s okay to not, uh. It’s okay.”

“Totally,” says Bokuto, and walks Kuroo backwards until they hit the wall. He knows that Kuroo is being considerate, since he’s never done anything with a dude except kiss, but at the moment that seems more like a grave oversight on his part than a hurdle to overcome.

Kuroo’s teeth flash in the murky dark as he pulls Bokuto close. It feels just as good to kiss him now as it had last time, maybe even better, because he’s just pushed a knee in between Kuroo’s legs and he can feel the evidence against his thigh of Kuroo being just as hard as he is. 

He hitches his leg up a little higher and bites Kuroo’s lip, kisses his chin and the underside of his jaw, anything he can think of to make Kuroo sigh and push forward until it feels like they’re pressed together everywhere.

“Shit,” Bokuto says out loud, because his dick is touching another person’s dick, and it’s Kuroo’s dick, and it feels so good he might die and yet frustratingly insufficient at the same time. Intent on getting them both down to boxers at least, Bokuto starts to fumble with the button on Kuroo’s jeans. 

Kuroo chooses that moment to pull away abruptly, which Bokuto hates more than anything that’s ever happened. 

“Sorry,” he says, and Bokuto has just enough mental fortitude to wonder if Kuroo is creeped out by their dicks touching. It seems pretty unfair of him to be creeped out by that, if he is, since this whole change of scenery had been his idea. “Gonna puke.” 

Before Bokuto can say anything back, Kuroo hurries out the door with a hand clapped over his mouth. Suddenly, Bokuto is alone in Tanaka’s old room with nothing but his boner and his thoughts.

He waits there for a long time, hoping for some kind of explanation or at least the opportunity to make out some more, but Kuroo never comes back.


	4. short lived nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -sorry for the wait!! finals and bnha and saso all happened to me in rapid succession....  
> -thank you to my radiant angel [leah](http://archiveofourown.org/users/potatobread) for looking at this and also id like to publicly apologize to her for not actually writing the scene where kuroo pukes on kenma's vita  
> -[heres track 4](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6mIqtgXfmUI)!!

When Bokuto wakes up the next morning, the first thing he registers is Akaashi staring down at him with his arms folded and a murderous look in his eye. Bokuto really can’t handle that right now, given the fact that he already feels like a corpse given life. He can’t remember the last time he had a hangover this bad. Then again, he also can’t remember the last time he drank as much as he did last night. 

“Fuck,” he says, closing his eyes against the vibrant sunshine outside and Akaashi’s mad face. He has an uneasy feeling that something shitty may have happened. 

“There’s a bucket if you need it,” says Akaashi. “Do you remember anything?”

“Uh,” says Bokuto as he struggles to drag up last night’s events from the swampy depths of his consciousness. He remembers Kuroo, and kissing Kuroo a lot, and getting a boner, and Kuroo having a boner, and the two of them almost doing something about it. None of this seems acceptable to tell Akaashi. “Not really.”

“I found you asleep on the floor in someone’s bedroom,” Akaashi says. “I basically had to carry you.”

“Holy shit,” says Bokuto as he remembers the rest, how Kuroo completely fucked off in the middle of what Bokuto had considered to be a pretty good time without a word of explanation. 

“You cried on the bus,” Akaashi continues ruthlessly. Bokuto groans. 

“Did you see Kuroo?” He knows it’s a desperate question, but that doesn’t stop him from asking it. The longer Bokuto remains conscious, the more acutely he realizes that hangover nausea is the least of his worries. 

He’d thought that messing around with Kuroo again would get all this shit out of his system. Or maybe he hadn’t thought that at all and he just wanted to make out with Kuroo some more and not have to worry about any of the stuff that’s been on his mind. Either way, it didn’t work, and now Akaashi is mad and Kuroo is gone and Bokuto is centimeters from death. 

“I didn’t,” Akaashi replies. Some of Bokuto’s inner anguish must show through on his face, because his next words come out a bit less stern. “But Bokuto-san, there’s something you really need to—”

“ _Akaashi_ ,” Bokuto wails, and covers his face with his hands in an attempt to ward off whatever Akaashi says next. Lately he feels like all he does besides think about Kuroo’s stupid mouth and hands and personality is dodge serious talks with Akaashi that would lay bare a bunch of hard truths he’s too cowardly to acknowledge at the moment.

Akaashi exhales quietly, and Bokuto feels a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t uncover his face, in case Akaashi means to lower his guard before he starts in on the talk. 

Instead, Akaashi just pats him once, firmly.

“Okay,” he says. “Good luck, Bokuto-san.” 

He grabs his backpack and leaves not long after that, maybe to go to class, or maybe just to let Bokuto marinate in his despair. For a while, Bokuto does marinate. He doesn’t even get up to drink water or take pills, partly because it hurts to move and partly as penance for last night’s hubris. Eventually, his phone buzzes, but it takes another fifteen minutes for him to even consider rolling over to get it. Once he does, he sees that he has a text from Yukie.

 _hey let’s hang out_ , it says. _):_ , Bokuto replies. _yikes i’ll come get u_ , she responds a few seconds later.

True to her word, Yukie is outside the door within ten minutes. 

“Come in,” Bokuto calls feebly. He knows she’ll want him to get out of bed and go somewhere but he’d like to postpone that moment for as long as possible. Thankfully, Akaashi left the door unlocked.

“Wow,” says Yukie as she takes in the scene. “You weren’t kidding.”

“Last night was fucked up,” says Bokuto, only this time he really means it.

“What happened?” Yukie asks, and then shakes her head. “No, actually don’t tell me until you’re dressed and we’re getting food.”

Bokuto lets out a groan of pure misery at the thought of both those things. Is this how Kuroo felt the time that Bokuto demanded they get cheese fries? How does he deal with this on a regular basis?

“Up up up,” says Yukie, and bounces on his bed a couple times for good measure. She sounds way too cheerful, but Bokuto gives it his best effort anyway. 

Getting himself up and dressed is an arduous process, and he pukes in the bathroom while he’s trying to brush his teeth, but eventually the two of them make it out the door. They’re headed for some diner Yukie likes for breakfast, even though it’s well into the afternoon by now.

On the way, Yukie chatters happily about how she and Kaori come here all the time. For a few hopeful minutes Bokuto thinks the prospect of food will distract her enough that she’ll forget to ask about his fucked up night. 

His luck lasts until they slide into a booth and order their food, at which point Yukie levels him with a slightly more intense version of her usual sleepy gaze.

“Spill it,” she says. 

“Okay,” says Bokuto. “I got way too drunk last night and Kuroo and I, uh, were hanging out, and then he ditched me. And it just sucks, because I thought that maybe we were on the same page. About hanging out.”

“Go on,” says Yukie, and Bokuto does. He finds that once he’s started on the topic, it’s actually pretty hard to stop, especially once he gets into the finer details of Kuroo’s legs and face and creepy smiles. 

After he’s talked for ten minutes or so and the server has come and gone with their food, Bokuto notices that Yukie looks alarmed. He cuts himself off in the middle of describing how the crook of Kuroo’s neck sometimes smells like a really good soap to ask her about it, even though he kind of feels like that’s a vital detail of the story. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Yukie leans in across the table and lowers her voice. 

“Look behind you,” she says. “But be cool.”

Bokuto twists around immediately. At first he can’t tell what Yukie was looking at, but then he sees Kuroo and Kenma, seated at a booth on the other side of the restaurant. Kuroo looks even worse than Bokuto feels, chin propped up glumly with one hand as he watches Kenma scan the menu.

Bokuto whips back around before they notice him, ducking down so his hair won’t be visible over the top of the booth. 

“Shit!” he says. “Fuck.”

“Should we leave?” Yukie asks, but even as she says it Bokuto is glancing backwards again.

As he watches, Kuroo nods at something Kenma says and then heaves a big sigh. Bokuto knows he should stop looking, but somehow he can’t bring himself to turn around. 

“Um,” Yukie says behind him, just as Kuroo looks idly in the direction of their booth. His eyes find Bokuto’s, and all the noise in the restaurant seems to die down to nothing. 

Neither of them break eye contact for the longest moment Bokuto’s ever experienced, not even when Kenma rolls his eyes and Yukie coughs politely. Bokuto searches Kuroo’s face for some kind of clue about what he’s thinking, but all he sees is a shocked and vaguely embarrassed expression that probably mirrors his own. 

Bokuto’s heart is pounding, and his face feels hot. At a loss for anything else to do, he lifts one hand into the most awkward wave ever performed by a human being. Kuroo responds to this by standing up so jerkily that he almost knocks over Kenma’s water glass. Then he grabs Kenma himself by the arm and hauls him out of the booth, and in the blink of an eye they’re both gone.

“Oh my God,” says Bokuto. He turns back around to face Yukie. “Did you see that?”

“Unfortunately,” she says. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Bokuto wonders aloud as he shreds a paper straw wrapper into tiny pieces. “Am I that horrifying?” 

“I mean,” Yukie starts, but she trails off at the look of genuine distress Bokuto gives her. “Hey, listen. I’m not great with this stuff, but I think you guys’ll work it out. Probably.”

“Thanks,” Bokuto says, even though that wasn’t really helpful. She pats his hand.

Bokuto doesn't eat much of anything but he still pays for their food, partly because he constantly owes Yukie anyway and partly because he feels guilty for dragging her into this whole thing.

She walks him to his residence hall and then splits off, giving him one more bracing pat before she does. Bokuto feels like he’s received a lot of those lately, but none of them seem to have helped much.

As he heads down the hall back to his dorm room, Bokuto drags his feet morosely. Akaashi probably isn’t back yet, so there won’t be anything to do except think about how Kuroo suddenly hates him. 

He’s working on grimly resigning himself to this fate when he notices someone sitting on the floor outside his room, knees drawn up to their chest as they flick imaginary dirt off their sneakers. 

Bokuto would recognize those Jordans anywhere. As he approaches, the messy hair and weary expression confirm his suspicions. 

“Hey,” says Bokuto once he’s close enough to be heard, and Kuroo looks up at him. 

“Hi,” he says back. He doesn’t get up, or say anything else. Bokuto wonders what Kuroo’s game is with this. Did he come over to officially tell Bokuto to never speak to him again? Does he just want more Nauzene? 

Waiting for him to specify on his own proves unsuccessful, and Bokuto doesn’t know if he can handle the two of them just standing silently outside his door for much longer, so he pulls his keys out of his pocket. 

“What’s up? Wanna come in?” 

Kuroo nods and gets to his feet as Bokuto unlocks the door. Once they step inside, his eyes travel from last night’s clothes strewn across the floor to the mercifully empty puke bucket.

Bokuto watches Kuroo’s eyes move over to him, and suddenly he’s worried that if Kuroo starts to shoot the shit with him like normal, he might just play along and never mention this again. The thought almost doesn’t seem so bad in the face of all this awkwardness, but then he’d have to deal with this weird tight feeling in his chest and Akaashi’s constant attempted guidance for the rest of time.

“Dude,” he says instead. “What the hell.”

Kuroo takes this as a cue to collapse dramatically onto Bokuto’s bed. His head drops into his hands, and his foot lands in the puke bucket. 

“I’m so sorry, man,” he says. “I need to tell you something.” 

Bokuto’s heart sinks. He can guess how this will end. Kuroo will confess that the whole thing was some kind of weird gay chicken and last night was his way of tapping out for good, and Bokuto will be stuck with these emotions for the rest of college, and then he’ll die. 

“It’s okay,” he cuts in. Maybe he can save himself some embarrassment before Kuroo gets going. “If you didn’t actually have to puke or whatever last night. I get it.” 

Kuroo gives Bokuto a weird look. “No, dude, I definitely puked everywhere. I have to buy Kenma a new Vita.” 

“Oh,” says Bokuto. 

“I shouldn’t have just left you like that, though,” Kuroo says, lifting his face out of his hands. He looks incredibly morose. Bokuto wants to kiss him, even though they’re both sober and hungover and Kuroo is about to reveal some kind of dark secret. As Bokuto watches, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

“Last year I started asking Kenma to ask Akaashi where you’d be on weekends so I could go there too.”

“No fucking way,” Bokuto says automatically. Kuroo’s words make sense, but he’s having a hard time picking any meaning out of them. 

“I’m serious,” says Kuroo. “It’s really creepy, but I knew you liked kissing people and I knew I’d like kissing you.” 

“How did you get them to do it?” Bokuto asks. 

“For a while they didn’t think it was weird,” says Kuroo. “But then they started asking questions. Kenma told me Akaashi kept saying he was gonna tell you anyway. I kind of thought maybe he already did.” 

Bokuto thinks of all the times Akaashi’s tried to tell him stuff lately and feels suddenly, profoundly foolish. 

“You’re blowing my mind,” he says, because he’s not sure what else to say. Kuroo seems to have anticipated him being mad, but he isn’t. Admittedly, he’s not thrilled about being ghosted in the middle of a restaurant and also mid-dick touch, but Kuroo seems genuinely remorseful, and Bokuto knows he hasn’t exactly gone about things in the most straightforward way possible, either.

All that logic sort of gets drowned out by this feeling spreading through Bokuto’s chest, like some kind of weight’s been lifted off of him. He doesn’t have to worry anymore about whether Kuroo likes him or not. Kuroo does like him, enough to do some weird sleuth work in the hopes of kissing him. 

Somewhere past all this happiness, Bokuto registers that Kuroo is saying something.

“ — pissed, because, like, everyone kept telling me how weird it was, but I was just nervous I guess. You know?” 

“What?” Bokuto says. 

“Dude, are you listening?” Kuroo asks.

“You like me,” says Bokuto, and at this point he can’t keep the grin off his face. “You scammed Kenma and Akaashi because you like me.” 

Kuroo opens his mouth as if to protest, and then just shakes his head. 

“I heard you cried on the bus last night,” he says. “Does that mean you like me too?”

“Shut _up_ ,” says Bokuto, and punches Kuroo’s shoulder. “What if it does?”

Some of the tension is broken now, and Kuroo is actually smiling, albeit a little more self-consciously than usual. 

“Then I’d say we should pick up where we left off,” he says. His voice sounds the same way his smile had looked. Bokuto doesn’t think he’s ever been as endeared to anyone in his whole life.

“So you want to?” he asks, just to make absolutely sure. “Like, sober and everything?”

“Well, obviously,” says Kuroo. 

Bokuto snorts. “Like any of this was obvious.”

At that, Kuroo grabs one of Bokuto’s hands with both of his and gazes straight into his eyes. 

“Dude,” he says. “You’re a catch.” 

Bokuto is pretty sure the look on his face is embarrassingly mushy, but Kuroo is kind of softly half-smiling in a way that isn’t all that cool either. If they were drunk, this is roughly the point where his tongue would be down Kuroo’s throat. 

“So,” he says instead, at the same time that Kuroo says, “Do you, uh.” This whole thing seems a lot harder and more embarrassing with no alcohol involved, but Bokuto isn’t one to let a challenge get the best of him, so he frames Kuroo’s face with both his hands and leans in. 

Thankfully, they’re already good at this part.

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING....IM [HERE](http://prismos.tumblr.com) ON TUMBLR IF THAT INTERESTS YOU  
> edit: [ALSO TWITTER](http://twitter.com/manycandles)


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